Charles
the First and Lord Falkland—Virgilius the Magician—Thomas of Ercildoune.
With occasional
gales of wind and blustering showers [October 1868], that, from their
chilliness and snellness, you
suspect to be sleet, although you don't like as yet exactly to say
so—meteorological phenomena, however, in no way strange or unusual on
the back of the autumnal equinox—the weather with us here continues
delightfully bright and breezy, and the country looks beautiful. Field
and upland are still as freshly green as at midsummer, while the deep,
rich russet hues and golden tints of the declining year, gleaming in the
fitful sunlight, and intermingling their glories with the still
beautifully fresh and unspotted foliage of our hardier trees and shrubs;
with the ripe, ruddy bloom of the heather empurpling the moorland and
the hill, and a perfect sea of "brackens brown" mantling the mountain
side, and fringing, in loving companionship with the birch, the alder,
and the hazel, the torrent's brink, as it leaps in foam from rock to
rock and dashes downwards with its wild music to the sea,—all this, with
a thousand indescribable accessories, scarcely perceptible indeed in the
general effect, but all bearing their fitting part in the delightful
whole, presents at this season, and never more markedly than this year,
a scene that you never tire of gazing at, and declaring again and again,
and with all your heart, to be "beautiful exceedingly." As you gaze on
such a scene as this, you feel that no painter could paint it; that
there is a something in it all too subtile and spiritual to be
transferred to canvas by any art whatever. An imitation, indeed, of all
that is palpable and tangible about it you may get, and it may be very
beautiful perhaps, and a triumph of art in a way; but, even as you gaze
in admiration, ready to grant the artist all the praise that is his due,
are you not apt, remembering the scene as nature has it, to
"Start, for soul is
wanting there?"
But we must not be misunderstood. Painters and painting
we love, and have always loved, and should be sorry, indeed, to be
considered as in any way dead or indifferent to the power and beauty of
the art. Painting, after all, however, and especially landscape
painting, is but an imitative art,
and the longer we live, and the more we are brought face to face with
nature, the more shall we feel that there is a charm, an attractiveness,
and a loveliness about her all her own—a something that
you feel but cannot describe, that the artist as he gazes feels too, and
strives to grasp and instil into his picture, but cannot charm into
interminglement with his colours, "charm he never so wisely." Viewed
aesthetically, nature in sooth consists not of matter only, but of
matter and spirit, and
therein is the secret of her surpassing power over us. You may subtly
imitate and reproduce exact representations of her more prominent
features and general outlines, and the painter, according as he is more
or less gifted with the poetic mens
divina, may
infuse a moral meaning into
his work, and a subtile beauty entirely independent of the mere
manipulation of his subject—be it landscape, seascape, or cloudscape—and
his work may impart instruction as well as pleasure and delight; but,
granting all this, there shall still be something awanting even in the
finest pictures, that something which we have ventured to call
spirit—the spirit that pervades and permeales nature in all her works,
that is her life, that may be "spiritually discerned" in
her, but
cannot be transferred to canvas.
In the collection of Jewish traditions known as the Talmud there
is a very pretty story of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, that will
serve to illustrate our meaning better than the longest dissertation
could be. It is to the following effect:—Attracted by his wealth, and
wisdom, and power—the fame whereof had gone forth into all lands—the
Queen of Sheba, the Beautiful, paid a visit to Solomon, the Wise, at his
own court, that she might there admire the splendour of his throne and
be instructed of his wisdom. Charmed with the courtesy and gallantry of
the accomplished King, delighted with the magnificence and splendour of
his court, and amazed at his surpassing wisdom, which, indeed, exceeded
all that she had heard reported of it, the Queen still thought that
Solomon could be outwitted, and she resolved to have the glory of
puzzling and outwitting one so wise. To this end she one day presented
herself before the King, bearing in one of her hands a wreath of natural
flowers, the most beautiful she could gather, and in the other a similar
wreath of artificial flowers, the most beautiful and like unto natural
flowers that the cunning of herself and her handmaidens could fashion.
Of the two wreaths the hues were of the brightest, and the flowers of
the one wreath were as if they had been pulled off the same stalks that
bore the flowers of the other. "Tell me now, O King," said the Queen as
she stood at some distance from the throne whereon the monarch sate,
"Tell me now, O King, which of these wreaths I hold in my hands is
fashioned of artiticial flowers, for one of them is so fashioned; and
which of them of natural flowers, that grew from out the earth, and
imbibed their beauty and their brightness from the sun, for of such of a
truth is one of them formed 1" And, lo, the King was perplexed and
sorely troubled, for he wist not what answer to make, seeing that the
two wreaths were as like one to another as twin sisters at their
mother's breast, or twin lilies on the same stalk. And the courtiers of
the King, and his princes, and his servants, were sorely grieved that
the sagacity of the King should be at fault, and his superhuman wisdom
at last fail. But, lo, the spirit of wisdom came upon the King in his
perplexity. Observing some bees clustering outside, he ordered the
window to be opened, and soon the bees came swarming into the court, and
after hovering for a moment about the one wreath, they straightway left
it and settled upon the other, which observing, "That," said
the King, "that, and
not the other, is the wreath of the flowers that grew from out the earth
and in the sun, and were not fashioned with hands." And the Queen was
mightily surprised at the exceeding wisdom of the King, and did
obeisance unto Solomon, laying the wreaths of flowers upon the steps of
the ivory throne that was overlaid with gold, and of which there was not
the like made in any kingdom. And the courtiers, and the princes, and
the servants of the King clapped their hands and cried, " 0 King! live
for ever." If we are wise and judge aright, we shall always, like the
bees of Solomon, be attracted by nature rather than by art, however
beautiful. Our doctrine was never, perhaps, so briefly and pithily
enforced as by the Macedonian conqueror on a certain occasion. A
courtier one day asked him to listen to him how well he could,
whistling, imitate the notes of the nightingale. Alexander declined the
proffered musical entertainment with the contemptuous remark, "I
have heard the nightingale herself." In
wonder that the would-be melodist slunk away abashed; and such be the
fate of all mere echoers and imitators when at any time they claim more
than is their due, or would have us appraise their pinchbeck at the
value of sterling gold. There is an amount of truth, and a hidden
meaning and beauty, in Byron's lines, that he was himself perhaps
unconscious of in the ribald mood of the moment, when, alluding to the
statuary's art, he exclaimed—
"I've seen much finer women, ripe and real,
Than all the nonsense of their stone ideal."
It is astonishing how difficult of thorough eradication
are certain superstitions, if once established amongst a people. Once
let the popular mind become inoculated with error in this shape, and
although times may change and the manners of the people may alter,
though a new tongue even shall have succeeded the language in which the
error was imbibed, and knowledge have spread and civilisation have
steadily progressed, yet there the superstition still lurks, frightened
it may be at the outward light, and, owl-like, ashamed to appear in the
brightness of the blessed sunshine of unclouded truth, but ever ready,
nevertheless, under favourable circumstances, to manifest itself, and
assert its sway over its votaries, like certain fabled mediaeval
philters and potions that when administered are said to have lurked for
years and years in the human system, till, under certain conditions,
their subtle properties were called into active operation, and the
desired effect was produced. A short time ago we spent an evening in the
company of a gentleman from the south of Scotland, a distinguished
antiquary and archaeologist, and of wonderful skill in everything
connected with the folk-lore of
Scotland, whether of the past or present. In the course of conversation,
" over the walnuts and the wine," our friend surprised us not a little
by informing us that even at this day, in certain parts of the
south-western districts of Scotland, the Sortes
Sacrce are
frequently resorted to by the people when they are in doubt or
perplexity about anything of sufficient importance in their opinion to
warrant their having recourse to this ancient mode of divination. The Sortes
Sacrce are
founded upon the more ancient Sortes
Virgiliance—Virgilian
Lots, a method of divination which had at least the merit of being
extremely simple, and not necessarily occupying much of the votary's
time. What may be called the literary oracle, as distinguished from
vocal oracles, was consulted in this wise: The operator having before
him a copy of Virgil—thesortes were
generally confined to the
AEneid—opened
the volume ad
aperturam lihti, anywhere,
at random, when the first passage that accidentally struck the eye was
carefully read and pondered with as little reference as possible to its
immediate context, and a meaning extracted from it which was supposed to
indicate the issue of the event in hand, and which was to be considered
inevitable and irrevocable as the fates had so decreed. A man with the
knowledge thus obtained could not by any precaution or change of conduct
avert the impending doom, good or evil; he could only put his house in
order, and so arrange matters the best way he could; that if evil came
it might be borne with dignity and patience; if good, that it might be
enjoyed with moderation and devout gratitude to the gods. It is said
that at the outbreak of the troubles that culminated in the
Commonwealth, Charles I. and Lord Falkland found themselves on a certain
day in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, when the latter jocularly
proposed that they should inform themselves of their future fortunes by
means of the Sortes
Virgiliance; and
certainly, read by the light of after events, it must be confessed that
the passages stumbled upon seem singularly ominous of the fate that
overtook both. The passage read by the Martyr King was from the fourth
book of the AEneid, and is as follows :—
Which Dryden, if with rather too much amplification,
still very beautifully translates thus :—
Lord Falkland's eye fell on the following lines in the
eleventh book:—
—which the same translator has rendered as follows :—
How the most pious man of his age, and one of the best
kings that ever adorned a. throne, suffered death at the hands of his
rebellious subjects is well known. Poor Lord Falkland—a young nobleman
of the most estimable character ; a poet and man of letters, so fond of
books that he used to say that " he pitied unlearned gentlemen in a
rainy day "—fell gallantly fighting for the royal cause in the battle of
Newbury, before he had yet completed his thirty-fourth year. It is
curious to find the eminent poet Abraham Cowley, a good man too—of whom
at his death Charles II. was heard to say that " Mr. Cowley had not left
a better man behind in England," —it is curious, we say, to find him on
a certain occasion seriously referring to the Virgilian
Lots,
and, what is more, avowing his firm belief in them ! During the
Commonwealth, Cowley was in Paris, where he acted as secretary to the
Earl of St. Albans (then Lord Jermyn), and had a good deal to do with
the negotiations that eventually led to the Restoration. In one of his
letters, speaking of the Scotch treaty then in agitation, he
says—seriously, observe, and in an official document—"The Scotch treaty
is the only thing now in which we are vitally concerned. I am one of the
last hopers, and yet cannot now abstain from believing that an agreement
will be made ; all people upon the place incline to that union. The
Scotch will moderate something of the rigour of their demands; the
mutual necessity of an accord is visible, the king is persuaded of it. And,
to tell you the truth (which I take to be an argument above all the
rest), Virgil has told the same thing to that purpose." He
had evidently consulted the Virgilian
Lots, and
a passage presenting itself that could somehow be twisted so as to point
to a favourable issue to the Scotch business in hand, he accepts the
oracle, and in all seriousness announces his belief in it ! "When we
find a man of refinement and culture and high moral character like
Cowley crediting such nonsense, can we much wonder at the lengths to
which fanaticism and superstition carried people in those unhappy times?
To understand why Virgil, of all the ancient poets, Roman or Greek, was
selected as the oracle in this mode of divination, we must remember that
the Mantuan bard had the credit amongst his countrymen of having been a
sorcerer or necromancer and prophet as well as a poet, something like
the British Merlin, or
our own Thomas
the Rhymer and Michael
Scott, only
more famous, perhaps. Would the reader suppose, for example, that the
theory of volcanic action is all a myth, and that it is to the magic of
Virgil, and to nothing else, that the south of Italy is indebted for all
the earthquakes and subterranean convulsions that have afflicted it for
centuries 1 Yet so it is, if wo are to credit all the stories of "
Virgilius the Magician " that were current during the Middle Ages. The
celebrated Benedictine monk, Bernard
de Montfaucon,
author of Antiquite
Expliqufe one
of the most learned and curious works in existence, repeats the story as
it was told and credited in the Dark Ages. The following is from an old
translation, quoted by Scott in his notes to the Lay
of the Last
Minstrel,
in illustration of the magical spells attributed to the Ladye of
Branksome Tower. Virgil it seems, among other things, was famous for his
gallantries. On one occasion he fell in love with and carried away the
daughter of a certain "Soldan," and the story proceeds:—"Than he
thoughte in his mynde how he myghie marye hyr, and thoughte in his mynde
to founde in the middes of the see a fayer towne, with great landes
belongynge to it and so he did by his cunnynge, and called it Napells
(Naples). And the foundacyon of it was of egges, and in that town of
ISTapells he made a tower with iiii. corners, and in the toppe he set an
apell upon an yron yarde, and no man culde pull away that apell without
he brake it; and thoroughe that yren set he a bolte, and in that bolte
set he an egge, and he henge the apell by the stauke upon a cheyne, and
so hangeth it still. And when the egge styrreth so should the town of
iSTapells quake; and when the egge brake, then shulde the town sinke.
When he made an ende, he lette calls it Kapells." Thomas of "Ercildoune,"
and he of "Balivearie," and the two Merlins,—for
there were two of them, the Merlin of the Arthurian legends, and Merdwynn
Wylet, or
Merlin the Wild, who seems to have been a Scotchman, and whose grave is
still pointed out beneath an aged thorn-tree at Drumelzier in Tweeddale,—these
were accounted great magicians and "pretty fellows in their day;" but
what were they to Virgilius the earthquaker, who at least attained to
such an enviable state of independence, that he is represented as
frequently playing at pitch and toss with the "devyl," and cheating and
outwitting that crafty potentate as if he were the veriest greenhorn!
The Sortes
Sacrce were
just the Sortes
Virgiliance, with
this difference, that in the former case, instead of a copy of Virgil,
the New Testament was used in the process of divination. The oracle is
consulted in this case, according to our information, by the
introduction at random of the wards end of a key (some allusion probably
to the Apostolic keys) between the leaves of the closed volume, which is
then opened at that place, and from the first verse that arrests the eye
the desired knowledge is extracted. On inquiry, we find that this
superstition was still occasionally practised in the Highlands of
Scotland some fifty years ago, though we would fain hope and believe
that it is now unknown. It is curious that it should still be frequently
resorted to in the south-western districts. It seems to have been a very
general as well as a very ancient mode of divination. Hoffman, in his Lexicon
Universale, tyc., informs
us that it was practised by the Jewish Rabbins with their sacred books,
as well as by the Pagans from very early times, and was common amongst
the Christians of the Middle Ages. We are informed by a gentleman, wrho
spent many years in the East, that the Mahometans frequently resort to
this method of divination, taking the Koran as their oracle.